Sunday, December 26, 2010

Golden Age



Golden Age

It is bittersweet to mispose fried yellow
in an orb of French eyes.

It is easy to fall into fish.

It is easy to fall in a cinnamon roll.

It is not hard to be a Fibonacci series.

But most difficult is seriously to suppose sunrise
in punctuation as curtains ascend on Vienna.

She hennas hand. She hennas hair. She hennas mustache and beard.

Hearing you have life to relive you are turbulence
barreling up the East Coast threatening snow.

We are not here to commoditize nature.

We are not here to sodomize le Duc de Blangis.

We are not here to know .36 from .38.

It is easy enough to fall into hatred.

It is easy enough to forget two or three drinks bar to bar.

It is easy to sing.

[EAC copyright 2010]
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